Star.Sapphire9728

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posted: 18 Jul 2016, 20:51

A Fable and a bit of silliness from a series I wrote called Compound Desert Cove – an apartment complex in the barrio of Sunnyslope, Arizona where I lived for six years. Despite the drugs, gang bangers, freaks, alcoholics, witches, bikers – this was the most closely knit community I ever lived in.

The Arborist

An arborist lived at CDC. As we had an aged and somewhat scummy landlord, things like taking care of the landscaping were not in the works. But the arborist didn’t mind. He skinned the palm trees, tended the hedges, acquired a vast collection of succulents and other native flora found in his beloved desert and set out to rehabilitate two spindly citrus trees that gasped for life in the center of the common courtyard.

The arborist was a study in contradictions. An egotist, who reveled in superior brain power that intimidated the average human and kept them away. A holder of rage that promulgated like a faucet that never turned off. He built things, drew maps and painted to wheedle away the solitary hours. In another turn, a selfless soul who loved to feed the poor and cut lawns for the elderly. He would stop for disabled motorists to help them; including an instance where he held the hand of a dying motorcycle driver who met his end in front of a Circle K at the hands of a distracted SUV driver. These moments of help and hurt affected him deeply. As he aged, the greater the effect until pain became the demon he fought with all the ill-gotten methods at his disposal. It was a sad and prolonged losing battle with mental illness; the beauty of life faded away from his sight.

He tried for several years to cure the disease that wrecked the citrus trees, preventing them from thriving and giving fruit. As his own soul was darkening from demons and abuse, his determination to save the trees deepened. And after immense patience, care and deep root fertilization, the trees began to thrive again.

In his final year, the trees blossomed and gave so abundantly that their limbs dragged to the ground pregnant with lemons and grapefruits, respectively. The entire complex received grocery bags full of fruit and still there was plenty to spare. The arborist enjoyed his lemon aid and morning grapefruit as the spoils for the efforts he had so patiently given.

They buried the Arborist when he was 27, in the desert foothills of Virden, New Mexico. In the distance, a river feeds the pepper farms and his mother’s childhood home stands in silhouette - a testament to his pioneering ancestors who settled there and gave that region of the United States their shape. Mount Graham watches in the distance - an ecosystem surprisingly diverse in contrast to the arid flatlands surrounding it. Wild raspberries grow there and bears occupy the forest that dwells in the high altitude.

They say that in the years to follow, the citrus tree, even without his physical tending continued to flourish, growing to shelter the bedroom window of the apartment he once dwelt in, giving the inhabitancy bushel loads of fruit each year. They say that as the evenings of the desert chill into winter, he can be seen looking over his tree in ghostly form and sitting to rest below its limbs; a permanent dweller and benign caretaker to his small legacy.

UFO's - March 1997

Most of the strange and unexplainable things I’ve seen throughout my life I’ve attributed to my sophomore year in high school. That year I dropped more acid than supposedly allowed to maintain the status quo of the sane and stuffy. As residue of the drug lodges itself in fat and brain tissue, it never completely leaves your body. I still enjoy nice tracers to this day and have an easy out when I see something that makes me shake my head and look again.

But in March of 1997, I had an experience with all of my neighbors at Compound Desert Cove. That is was a shared viewing, and later reiterated on the evening news as something that ‘damn near everyone with eyes saw’, I feel less weird talking about it now.

At the summoning of my gang-banger next door neighbor proclaiming that there was something ‘freaky as shit in the sky’, we all gathered and proceeded to climb onto the roof of the apartment complex to take a look.

Traversing slowly over the northern mountains of the city heading south, there was half a dozen lights, evenly spaced to form a flying wing. Sure, Luke Air Force Base was home to a couple of stealth bombers, similar in shape to this phenomena, last I checked the specs didn’t include that such a thing was half a fucking mile across.

We watched as it lumbered its way clear of the mountains heading in a pretty straight trajectory along the path of I-17 slowly heading south east towards Central Avenue. We are were all pretty amazed and sorta struck dumb as the vast hugeness of the object and weirded out that the sonic sound of engines never came. Attention spans being what they are, after about twenty minutes, someone went and got some beer. The object slowed and stopped over the horse track about six miles south of us. The lights blinked a bit, an ice breaker to what we were witnessing.

Someone started to whistle the tune to ‘Close Encounters’.

“Hell of a fuss to place a bet on a horse, doncha think?”

“Phone Home Motherfucker! Phone Home!”

“Ouch.”

“I may be too high for First Contact.”

Independence Day had come out the year before, so conversation headed toward the wisdom of trying to take a shot at it and the great humor at the possibility of Will Smith coming to save the day (we had cigars just in case.) We also wondered why Luke AFB hadn’t scrambled something up to take a look at this thing.

After it passed over the Cave Creek Mountains, we couldn’t see it anymore and all went in to watch it on the news. It passed over the entire city over a two hour period of time and was last seen hovering around the Paloverde Nuclear station before the lights disappeared completely.

I think the Phoenix Lights remains one of the most witnessed strange events in recent history. I have no idea what we saw....flares and balloons tend not to blot out stars nor remain synced to each other for a two hour period of time. Whatever it was, we had a good party and ET is just as good excuse as any for comradery and a good laugh.

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The Arborist actually had me shed a tear ... Even though you are on the other side of the world from me the story hit very close to home... - thanks... Well written

As for the UFO story... Well... The USA had its "Project Blue Book" back in the day, South Africa had its "Project Iron Horse" back in the day and since all of it involves X-files from both continents - I'll say no more on THAT subject...

Under normal circumstances, Occam's razor would fit. But we saw something roughly the size of 5 Galaxy C5's side by side wing tip to wing tip. To the best of my knowledge (after working as a civvie at AFBs most of my life) C5's cannot hold formation for two hours+ running silently. If they could in 1997, then Skunkworks has some technology that basically rewrites everything that is known about aviation. But that sure is one possibility. I honestly don't know what I and most of Phoenix saw that night. And every year, the local media brings it back up and tries to figure it out.

Fascinating - thanks for sharing, Sedona!
The story of the arborist recalls a tale I read long ago about a couple who loved plants so much that when they died in their house, the plants of their so carefully tended garden united to bury them along with their house underneath an impenetrable splendour of flowering fragrant greenery. Way to go...

I only read the first one it was so good. I will save the 2nd for later. Well done.
Good writting in the blogs section is like a overgrown garden: Among the weeds that spring up every day a Rose will appear.